


A Rose in Bloom

by Redskybluecherry



Category: Fable (Video Games)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 11:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redskybluecherry/pseuds/Redskybluecherry
Summary: "When she first meets him, he’s nothing more than a boy, a fool, utterly unworthy of her time."- A chronological compilation of Briar Roses' encounters with the Hero of Oakvale over the course of the story, as well as an attempt at expanding her character.





	A Rose in Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> All rights belong to their respectful owners - i do not own the "Fable" franchise or any of the wonderful characters in it (who deserve way more attention on here, but that's a story for another time).
> 
> I've always loved "Fable: TLC", and was disappointed that Briar Rose, the most powerful female hero in the lore, didn't get as much screentime and/or characterisation. So i wrote this silly little thing using most of her dialogue and the timeline of the first game, in the hopes of giving her character a little more depth. Since the Fable community is incredibly small, thank you to everyone reading this.

When she first meets him, he’s nothing more than a boy, a fool, utterly unworthy of her time. She only addresses him because of his ancestry, and because Maze keeps talking about how _exceptional_ the boy is but to her, he seems like any other novice: Half-baked and hungry for glory, without any idea which bitter cost said glory entails.  
She leaves for Knothole Glade that day affirmed in her presentiments about him, but to her surprise, it doesn’t feel as satisfying as she thought it would.  
To witness the son of the greatest female hero Albion has ever seen, the son of her idol, and for him to be nothing more than a mere child leaves her with a bitter taste in her mouth.  
_There is nothing of Scarlet Robe in him_ , she thinks that day.

 

* * *

 

 

It is on a diplomatic mission in Bowerstone that she learns of his triumph in the arena. While she is walking the streets, trying to fend off tiresome admirers, she hears people talking about him, talking about what happened.

Unlike other veterans, she has never liked the attention of the public, never liked being put on a pedal. She uses her popularity to increase her influence, surely, but she has never _basked_ in it, like Thunder or others do. Since her father abandoned her and she built herself up from nothing, she had always known who she was, known what she was capable of, and she didn’t need the approval or confirmation of anybody else to do so. There are few people in Albion worthy of her respect, and up until now, she never would’ve thought the boy would ever be among them. But he is hardly a boy anymore, and winning the arena is something no half-skilled novice could ever wish to accomplish. She starts doubting her notions of him. But the small feelings of doubt and respect growing in her are hardly enough to overshadow her alarm. Naturally she has known Jack of Blades isn’t dead. Maze, the Guildmaster and her had been sure of it the moment those bandits had slaughtered Oakvale. But to pull the strings behind the scenes and to publicly show himself are two entirely different things.

She has never liked working with others, has always preferred to be alone, for a variety of reasons. But the return of Jack of Blades is not something she can simply brush off or ignore, and she knows Albion will need her. As she leaves Bowerstone behind to meet up with Maze and the Guildmaster, she finds herself thinking of how Albion might need The Hero of Oakvale, too.

 

* * *

 

 

The second time she meets him is at her request. There is a disturbance in Darkwood concerning an old shrine, and she knows she cannot do it alone. She doesn’t expect him to answer her call after her past mockery of him, but he does. He treats her with respect and follows her orders without questioning her. After she has decoded the inscriptions on the altar and they have closed the portal, she finally gets to make up for her past mistake by paying him her respect. The look on his face as she does so is one of surprise and modesty, and one so similar to his mother that it leaves her with a strange and sentimental feeling as they part.

 

* * *

 

 

After she comes to know what happened in the Chamber of Fate, after he emerges as the biggest hero Albion has seen in ages, she asks herself how she couldn’t have seen it sooner, seen him for what he is sooner. The Guild and all of its heroes would be history now if it wasn’t for him, and for the first time in years, she feels like a fool. A fool for not realizing how much of Scarlet Robe has lived on in him years earlier. A fool for not seeing the doubt, the weakness in Maze’s eyes years earlier. She learns of his victory while she is far out of Albion, researching ancient ruins. She could stay here, travel as she has always done, now that the immediate threat of Jack no longer lingers in Albion. But she finds herself wanting to return, wanting to offer _him_ her assistance. Her respect for him has become her main drive to become better at everything she does, and she has a feeling his journey is far from over. Deep inside, she knows there are other, more frivolous, more foolish reasons for wanting to help him, but she doesn’t allow herself to dwell on these thoughts. _Feelings_ have always been something she has regarded as a distraction she cannot afford.

 

* * *

 

 

After she informs him and the Guildmaster of the old Demon door having awoken for the first time in centuries, she continues to watch his progress from afar as she travels across Albion on her own, trying to set things back in order after they had nearly collapsed. The Guild informs her of the Prophecy, naturally. It comes just as naturally to her to travel to the Northern Wastes and offer the hero the depths of her knowledge to help him uncover the secrets around the Bronze Gate. Although the years have not changed her preference of working alone, she finds it surprisingly _tolerable_ to discuss things with him. _Pleasant_ , almost.  
When she realizes he needs to collect the souls of three heroes, she tells him immediately. She also tells him he could potentially take _hers_ as one of them. Of course she could have tried to fool him, but he would have figured it out eventually, either way. Trying not to give the slight trace of fear away that clouds her features, she watches his reaction to her words carefully. No matter how many tales of his mercy travel across all of Albion, the years have taught her to never trust anyone. Maze’s betrayal and her subsequent loss of trust were a mistake she couldn’t afford to repeat.  
But as she sees the small smile that crosses his face, she is reminded of his mother, once more, and she knows before he tells her that she has no reason to fear him. He thanks her with words so kind they almost shame her and at the same time make her stomach twist in strange ways she hasn’t felt in years. She doesn’t tell him, and it takes brutal honesty to admit it to herself after he’s gone.

 

* * *

 

 

Ultimately, it seems like a fitting ending. Him defeating Jack of Blades one final time, bringing Albion back to a state of balance, of normality, at least for the next hundred years. She wouldn’t ever tell him, or someone else, but she feels _nervous_ as he sets out to open the Bronze Gate. An unfamiliar, uneasy feeling, but she cannot help it. Part of it is made up of the knowledge that should he fail, there would be little to no hope for Albion left. She knows her strengths, she knows how smart and how strong she is - still is - but she also knows neither her, nor the Guildmaster, nor Thunder, nor all three of them together would stand a chance against Jack. Scythe is difficult to evaluate, but no matter how strong he once was, she is sure he would be no match for Jack today. The other parts of her nervousness are made up of the completely unintentional, yet all the more undeniable _wish_ for him to survive. She has to think back to the day she first met him, what she thought of him then, and it makes her smile and shake her head. After all that’s happened, it seems like a distant memory from another lifetime.

Perhaps it should not come as a surprise to her that he survives, that he prevails, once more, but the relief she feels as he returns from the battle tells her it does. She doesn’t know what he will do now, and she doesn’t ask him. After all he’s done for Albion, he has more than earned his right to spend the rest of his time doing whatever he likes. The irony that she has never actually allowed _herself_ this comfort is not lost on her. The future seems as bright as possible, and as they say their goodbyes – for an indefinite amount of time, as always – she smiles at him, knowing she has at least played a small part in how things turned out.  
No matter what happens next, the spirit of his mother, of his ancestors, lives on. There are still heroes in Albion, her being one of them, and to know he sees her as his equal fills her with pride and humbleness at the same time.

 

* * *

 

 

Instead of continuing her travels, she returns to the Guild for a while, assisting in training the recruits.  
Time and time again, she receives a letter from the Hero, and she sends him ones of her own. The world has gone quiet and peaceful for once, so there is no need for them to meet up yet again. She treasures his letters, reading them in the evening after fulfilling her deeds for the day. He seems to be content with his life, and she is surprised to find so is she.

Although the years have taken a certain toll on her, she is still considered one of the biggest heroes of Albion. If there is one thing left for her to do, it is to make sure there will be others to follow in her footsteps once she is no longer able to take a stand.  
Although she still doesn’t enjoy worship or adoration, she finds that it feels different when it comes from the honest eyes of a child.  
Training with the novices makes her smile more often than she can ever remember doing, and seeing the smiles on the little girls’ faces at words of praise from her make her feel something she can ultimately, finally, allow herself – _happiness_.

 

 


End file.
